


Halfmetal

by gothmcty



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Emetophobia, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Phantom pain, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26438470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothmcty/pseuds/gothmcty
Summary: With the changing weather, Ed experiences horrible phantom pains in his automail.
Relationships: Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell
Kudos: 104





	Halfmetal

Ed knew he was in trouble the minute he jolted awake in the dead of night. A slight tremble ran its way down his spine, and yet, he wasn’t exactly sure what had awoken him.

The waking up part itself was no problem. He had grown used to that—all-too frequent nightmares plagued him lately, dreams full of so many horribly failed transmutations bearing the leering faces of his friends and family, grabbing at him, begging him to fix them in their hollow tones. Upon unearthing the mutilated corpse he’d once believed to be his mother’s body, these nightmares had only worsened and increased in both frequency and intensity. Waking up and muffling his screams and rattling sobs into the pillowcase had practically become second nature now. 

Ed’s heart again lept slightly against his ribs at the thought of what he’d found in that grave, his golden eyes flitting around the shadowy room suspiciously. A creeping fear settled its way into his bones. One of those _things_ from his nightmares could easily be watching him even now, lurking in some hidden corner, waiting to gnaw off his remaining limbs, then head for Alphonse’s room. . .

He shifted uncomfortably in bed and immediately gasped.

“ _Damn_ , I—” Ed’s whisper cut off with a sharp intake of breath as he bit down on his tongue. Hard.

Surely something _was_ in the room with him, stabbing at him with a white-hot fire poker. Searing pain had shot through his shoulder and down his arm, as if his nerves had just been hacked off further through the stump with a blunt knife. Ed gave a strangled yelp of surprised agony, leaping out of bed in confusion. As soon as his feet made contact with the bedroom floor, another excruciating jolt shot up from his left leg’s automail and into his thigh.

Ed’s knees buckled and fell out from under him as he collapsed to the floor with an unceremonious grunt. Sharp licks of pain now throbbed from both of his stumps. He whimpered pitifully, immediately grateful no one else was there to witness his weakness.

“What the _hell?_ ” Ed groaned through his gritted teeth, reaching out to push back his shorts and examine his leg further. Rubbing it gently, he determined the pain to have been brief, or at least, now it didn’t hurt too badly when he applied a little force here and there. Still, an almost heartbeat-like pressure pounded deep within the skin, running down to meet his knee at that most uncomfortable joint. Meanwhile, his entire right arm felt as if it had simply fallen asleep. That particular sensation, however, was more familiar.

“Aw, dammit,” Ed swore a second time. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. I don’t have time for this.” He ignored the fact that his voice came out as more of a whining complaint rather than a heroic statement.

The familiar pains were, of course, a sign that the weather would soon be taking a turn for the worse. This was one of his least favorite aspects of his automail limbs, despite how otherwise convenient he found them to be in battle. Now, they were simply a nuisance when it came to such seemingly insignificant things as the _weather._

After a few more experimental flexes, Ed decided he could safely move back into his bed, feeling rather foolish for ending up on the floor to begin with. What was he, an old man? Scoffing, he pulled himself back up, ignoring the small pins and needles that bit at his joints almost immediately.

“A little pain never hurt anyone,” he murmured under his breath, sliding back underneath his bedsheets. “Right?”

His bid for confident sarcasm tided him over, at least until he woke up a few hours later. Getting dressed presented enough of a challenge, as did brushing his hair and teeth, as both his arm and leg seemed to have gone completely numb overnight.

 _“Definitely a great sign,”_ he thought to himself rather irritably as he dropped his toothbrush into the sink a third time. His exhausted face stared back at him in the mirror, more than a little exasperated, the bags under his eyes making him appear more sickly and paler than usual.

That morning, Ed grumbled his way sleepily down the stairs, wincing at each step. Although the sharp pains in his shoulder and thigh joints had subsided into a dull ache, the feeling remained far from comfortable. On the last step, a sudden burning sensation shot through his upper chest and down through his automail fingers, causing them to flinch uncontrollably as he fumbled the bannister he’d been clinging to for support. He began tumbling down with a shout before something caught him by the back of his uniform just in time, yanking him unsteadily to his feet.

“Brother! Are you alright?” A familiar muffled voice exclaimed from behind him on the stairs, full of concern. Composing his face into a mask of calm, Ed turned to face his brother, forcing a smile.

“Mornin,’ Al!” He responded brightly, ignoring his still-throbbing arm. “You know me,” he added, laughing obnoxiously. “Always a klutz in the mornings.”

“Yeah, but. . .” Al’s eyes seemed to narrow in his armored mask as he hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t look so good. . .”

“Just tired,” Ed said quickly, turning on his heel and heading for the kitchen with as much bravado as he could muster. “I’ll be fine!” He waved an arm, leaving Al to follow him, the latter still scratching his head curiously.

He had his reasons for concealing his pain, Ed thought to himself as he bustled around the kitchen, pausing every now and then to joke at Al and hear his brother laugh back. He knew well enough that his little brother had been terrified of storms ever since the pair had been young. Their mother had often read them stories until the two boys could fall asleep. After her death, however, it had fallen on Ed to comfort Al in the night as he shook in his bed, deathly afraid of the flashing lightning and booming thunder. Even then, it had always been Ed’s goal to make his brother laugh as much as possible, taking his mind off the storm. If more such weather was coming soon, as Ed expected from the aches in his automail, he felt a certain obligation to keep up his own strength—for Al’s sake.

Although Al seemed to have forgotten his own suspicions, Winry, as ever, remained the woefully observant one in their little family. From the moment she entered the kitchen, Winry eyed Ed, watching as he limped across the kitchen and slumped back against the counter for a moment’s reprieve.

“Edward. . .” She started slowly, taking a dangerously careful sip from her coffee mug.

 _“Uh oh,”_ Ed thought wildly. Winry using his full name typically meant she was about to smack him upside the head for something dumb he’d done.

“Don’t tell me you managed to hurt your—”

Al’s chattering voice interrupted her as he reentered the room, nervously fidgeting with his massive metal hands.

“Oh man, you guys,” He spoke quickly, drawing Winry’s attention away from Ed. “Did you hear about the storms headed this way tonight? Storms. Big ones.” His eyes flew to the window instinctively, as if the rain itself were about to knock at the door and enter the house.

Winry set her mug down and came over to pat Al’s hand comfortingly.

“Hey, it’s okay, Al,” She soothed. “I’m sure they’re nothing.”

“Yeah,” Ed said bracingly, moving over to knock fists with his brother. “Plus, you’ve got your big brother here to protect you!” He grinned, a genuine one this time. Al laughed happily.

“I won’t have much to protect me, unless. . .” He wheezed, locking eyes with Winry, who giggled encouragingly. “Unless _you_ drink your milk, brother!”

Ed managed a properly furious expression, rolling his eyes and allowing the two of them to descend to descend into fits of laughter. Both were too busy losing their minds to notice Ed massaging his shoulder, passing the action off as mere embarrassment. 

The rest of the morning passed in what was practically a blur. Ed managed to deal with the office’s state alchemists with little to no trouble, flashing smiles here and there or addressing issues as they arose. Otherwise, he merely followed Al around in a haze of tiresome hurt, biting his lip or disguising his noises of pain as coughing fits whenever they arose. One such fit seemed to blow his cover as he doubled over, pretending to be overcome with a wracking, full-body sneeze as someone approached him. In reality, his chest was full of tender, burning nerves, all radiating from the automail connected to his shoulder. He straightened up as the someone got closer, stopping in front of him.

“ ‘M fine,” Ed panted steadily, waving a hand up at the figure, his mouth feeling stuffed full of cotton. That would suffice as an explanation for now as the base of his throat was beginning to burn. Acid threatened its way dangerously back up from his stomach’s contents. Faking coughs all morning seemed to be coupling with his chest pains, now causing a sickening rolling sensation in his abdomen. The thought of the breakfast he had eaten not long ago only set his stomach grumbling in protest. The combination of pain and nausea was suddenly overwhelming, washing over Ed in disgustingly hot, shaking waves.

With a few stumbling steps forward, Ed’s knees knocked into impact with the legs of someone’s desk. Another lunch of his stomach caused him to swallow thickly and nearly choke on bile as he tumbled downward.

Surprisingly deft, the someone in front of him caught Ed under the arms, saving him from a nasty whack of his head against the ground underneath him.

“Never know when to take a day off, do you, Fullmetal?” A gruff voice chided him.

Ed moaned weakly, barely suppressing the urge to be violently sick upon Colonel Mustang.

“Yep,” he mumbled, breath coming out in labored sighs as he fought back both the growing pain in his stumps and the ensuing nausea. “Think I’ll go take that sick day now, if you don’t m—”

Ed lurched forward violently, hands flying to his mouth in a last ditch effort to force back what was to come. To his surprise, Roy barely reacted, instead helping gently drag Ed over to the nearest restroom.

“Colonel, I—” A last bolt of fiery pain streaked across Ed’s arm and chest while his left leg locked in defense, sending him back to his knees. The rush of pain up both legs from the fall pushed Ed over the edge as he gagged dryly in response.

Much to Ed’s horror, they didn’t make it to the restroom in time. Another heave and Ed vomited once across the floor, one gloved hand attempting to stem the flow. He merely choked around the bile instead, gagging once again and retching as more acid flew up into his throat and mouth. Roy said something unheard by Ed as he pulled away the alchemist’s struggling hand from his mouth. Ed shook his head, frightened, struggling to distance himself from the colonel in his embarrassment.

“Easy, kid,” Roy said softly, one hand pressing lightly against Ed’s forehead. “We’ll get you taken care of. I promise.”

A few more wet, hacking noises later and Ed had ruined the day’s breakfast completely. Under normal circumstances, he realized hazily, he might have been embarrassed at Colonel Mustang calling him “kid.” Instead, there was something incredibly comforting in his presence that he was extremely grateful for.

There were more concerned voices now, Ed dimly recognized, as he gazed tiredly up at his brother and Winry, both standing in front of him and looking nervous.

“Can you guys be a little quieter?” Ed moaned, voice sounding scratchy and rough from the acid that had just forced its way up his intestines. He squeaked, swallowing back the dull, aching pain in his stumps.

“Some storm headed this way, huh?” Roy said to Winry, nodding in understanding. “I see how that must be hell on the automail.”

Alphonse was kneeling at his side now, patting his head with surprising gentleness given his size.

“I just knew it had to be your automail bothering you, brother. You’re silly for trying to hide it from me.”

Ed sniffled. He drew a knee up to his chest, practically curling himself into a ball away from the others.

“I hate how weak this makes me,” he said hollowly, barely audible. “ _Hate_ it.”

Winry paused in her conversation, frowning down at him. She too knelt next to Al, and if Ed had been feeling any less lousy, he might have cringed away from the anger radiating off of her.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me, you idiot?” She demanded, shaking her head. “All I’d have to do is adjust a few bolts here and there to relieve some of that pain that comes with the change in weather!”

His self-pity momentarily staunched, Ed could only gape back at her in surprise while Al giggled at his brother’s dumbfounded expression.


End file.
